


To Remember The Sweetness Of Living

by breadthief (trufield)



Series: When The Battle Is Won [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Amputation, M/M, Post battle of Winterfell, and yet also handjobs, post-torture injures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 16:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufield/pseuds/breadthief
Summary: Davos returns after the Battle of Winterfell to find Stannis cannot receive his news of Rickon Stark. With his King seriously injured, Davos must step up to his duties as Hand.(and dire situations will always draw people closer together...)





	To Remember The Sweetness Of Living

**Author's Note:**

> I have not started watching the next season but that doesn't matter - it's all book canon here  
> Someone asked me about it and I got all Stavos feels again so here we are  
> this was intended to be a porn one-shot and then a bunch of other stuff happened... there is still some porn
> 
> Please heed the warnings for descriptions of injury and violence, but its nothing as bad as what GRRM has written
> 
> (FYI the battle of winterfell here refers to the battle of the bastards. I was not expecting the show to make another battle of winterfell...)

Davos had arrived at Castle Black some days after the Battle of Winterfell had ended, only to be told he would have to journey on to Winterfell, where the men still resided - recovering and rebuilding. There was much he had missed, and although he was no fighter, he wished he could have been at Stannis’ side. 

When he had finally reached Winterfell, he gladly reunited Rickon with his brother, for the boy had been a handful, to say the least. A feral beast he had been, too closely bonded to that great wolf of his that Davos was still too afraid to approach. If it had not been for Osha, Davos did not think he would have managed to bring Rickon at all. In fact, he was fairly certain the wolf would have torn out his throat. 

He did not provide much of an explanation to Lord Commander Snow as to where he had been, wanting to report to Stannis first. Davos was taken to him and told he could make his report if he wished, but the King was unlikely to hear him. Davos had been at his bedside ever since. 

Stannis had suffered injuries - some serious but none critical, so long as nothing became infected. Davos was told that the King had barely woken since Ramsey had been killed and the battle ended, hence why he had not returned to the Wall to prepare for the next fight. Whenever that may be. 

He pressed Jon for the details of what had happened and offered his own story in return. Jon had been betrayed at Castle Black after receiving Ramsey’s letter declaring his victory over Stannis. Melisandre had given him the kiss of life and he had marched on Winterfell himself with the men that would help him. 

Jon had been too incensed to see that the letter was desperate. Ramsey would not have been so enraged if he had been completely victorious. It turned out the Manderly’s had attacked from the inside when Stannis had marched on Winterfell and Ramsey went out to meet him with the confidence he would win, causing great confusion and a significant blow to Ramsey’s plans. But Ramsey was vicious and brutal, even more so when cornered and his men were wild in fear of his repercussions if they failed. 

They had feigned retreat, coaxing Stannis to chase him back into Winterfell, and the gates had been sealed once more, trapping some of Stannis’ army inside the chaos - including Stannis himself. Even with the Manderly’s, Stannis had been outnumbered with most of his army outside the gates. 

This must have been when Ramsey had sent his raven, wanting Jon to give Arya back to him (who they later discovered hadn't been Arya at all), talking like Jon didn't have a choice. But Ramsey wasn't foolish, he had a back up plan if Jon came for a fight. He held their King to ransom, a scenario Jon couldn't anticipate if he believed Stannis to be dead. 

Davos cringed at the thought. It would have been infuriating and humiliating for Stannis to be a hostage. He would rather die than be captured - by Ramsey Bolton of all people. 

During this time, with the help of Theon Greyjoy, who had been Ramsey’s prisoner, and Mance Rayder, who had managed to escape, other possible entrances to Winterfell were identified. A few choice men snuck inside to locate Stannis and their fellows. A woman too, for Asha Greyjoy could not be held back and no one could doubt her reputation was suited to the task. She wanted Bolton blood for what Ramsey had turned Theon into, they did not think there would be much risk of her trying to get Stannis’ head instead. 

Jon had arrived when the first man returned from the hidden entryway, but there was no time for him to be filled in on the plan - Ramsey had been waiting for him. He spoke to Jon from the battlements, lifted Stannis’ head so Jon could identify him, and ordered Ayra to be sent forward or he would decorate the door below in King’s blood. 

A terrible situation for Jon, who knew that Ramsey was likely to kill Stannis regardless. Then, by some miracle, an arrow struck Ramsey in the shoulder from behind. He did not let go of Stannis but the shock made him hesitate for the briefest of moments but that was all Asha needed before she was standing beside him, plunging her dagger into his belly, gutting him like a fish. 

She made him suffer, Jon said, but he did not go into details and for that Davos was glad. 

And here Davos was, spending another day by Stannis’ bedside and trying to do his duties as Hand. Jon helped him there, he was grateful for the return of Rickon, and was a kind man. He sent word back to Castle Black that he would remain to aid his King and his people, and escort Stannis back to the Wall once he was able to be moved. 

But Stannis still had not woken properly, and had to be given milk of the poppy when he managed to be conscious, for the severity of his pain. Davos had insisted on helping to treat his wounds and was nearly sick the first time he witnessed them. 

Stannis’ right leg had been mauled by Ramsey's hounds. They had set upon him as he fought and resulted in his capture. Deep tears and gouges marred the flesh between the knee and the ankle. 

That was nothing compared to his back. The Bolton’s had their Sigil for a reason. A strip of skin, two fingers in width, had been flayed from Stannis’ back, hip to shoulder. 

Melisandre had arrived, Selyse, Shireen and the Queen’s Men with her, for Selyse did not wish to be parted from the red witch. Only Melisandre was permitted into the King’s chamber, Davos did not want to starlte Shireen with the sight of her father in his current condition. Melisandre had said the flames had told her Stannis was in danger, and she prepared to use her magic on Stannis’ wounds. Davos refused to leave the room. He did not trust her, although he was sure she would not harm Stannis when she believed him to be a sign from her fire God. He also felt he should scold somebody in Stannis’ place for allowing his Queen and his daughter to travel in dangerous weather and even more dangerous territory, but if the magic could do something it should be done as quickly as possible.

She placed four silver bowls on the posts of the bed, and filled them with a dark liquid which ignited when it settled in the dish. When all four were lit, the rest of the light in the room seemed to dim, leaving only the bed illuminated in an unnatural glow. Davos shuddered. He prayed silently to the Seven that there would be no cost to Stannis for receiving this dark magic.

Melisandre began to murmur a prayer in a language Davos did not understand. Stannis laid on his front, his back exposed for they were loathe to cover it in case it irritated the wound, and she moved her hands back and forth above it. She held a fifth bowl, this one small and black, filled it with the same strange liquid and blew across it gently. It ignited, the same as the others, and she held it above the wound and tilted the bowl.

“No-!” 

Davos reached out with the desire to stop her, but liquid fire poured onto Stannis’ wound. The King convulsed, but did not awaken and did not make a sound. Davos knelt and held Stannis’ forearm, in desperation to offer some relief. Melisandre continued pouring the liquid, fire running like a stream down the missing line of skin. Davos could smell burning flesh, could hear it crackle. He tightened his grip.

With Melisandre’s last word, the fire extinguished, and the room returned to the illumination it had before. A black crust had replaced the long wound.

“What is it?” Davos asked, his voice low and his mouth dry. 

“It is as good as he will heal, Lord Davos. We cannot risk infection to that wound and there is no other way to treat it.”

Davos nodded, glad for her honesty. “It will remain like that?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” 

Davos tentatively poked the crust. It was solid and warm. He laid the bedsheet over the King, and covered him with additional blankets to keep the cold now there was little concern over the injury. He would not ask Melisandre about Stannis’ leg. He did not want the King to suffer her magic again. Besides, it was stitched and healing, albeit slowly. 

“Would you summon the Queen and Princess Shireen? I believe they should see him now.”

“Yes, Lord Davos.”

As soon as Shireen was through the door she rushed to him. “Lord Davos!”

She remembered the courtly behaviours she had been taught, and came to a stop before she reached him.

“We have missed you. I am glad you are back.”

“Thank you, my Princess,” Davos smiled. _We_ have missed you. He looked at Stannis’ still form thoughtfully, only then did Shireen realise the bed was occupied. 

Her hand went to her mouth in shock. “Father!”

Davos rested his hand on her shoulder. “It is alright My Lady, he was wounded but Lady Melisandre has treated him. He just needs his rest.”

Selyse frowned at him from the other side of the bed before putting her nose in the air. “If Lady Melisandre has tended to him then all will be well. The Lord of Light would not let my husband die.”

Shireen looked quickly to Davos, her gaze filled with greater worry at the possibility of death. Davos squeezed her shoulder.

“He will be alright, Princess. His wounds will not fester, and I will be watching over him.”

“Thank you, Lord Davos. When he wakes, he will be happy to see you have returned and that will help fix him.”

“I hope so, Princess. Now go along and get some warm food in you. In the morning you can come and see if your father is better.”

“Yes, Lord Davos.”

They departed, and much to Davos’ surprise, Melisandre did too, but not before a parting word.

“There is someone who would wish to see _you_ , Lord Davos.” She beckoned someone inside the room.

__

__

“Devan!” Davos cried. “My boy!”

Devan rushed to him, but clasped his arm instead of embracing him. “Father! We were told you had been executed!”

“Ah, that was all a ruse, my boy. A smuggler has his ways,” he winked.

Devan looked over to the King and Davos took his usual seat at the bedside. He doubted Stannis would ever show her, but he imagined Shireen would be very pleased to know her father’s skin was marred with black, just as hers was cursed with grey. 

After a hour of softly murmured conversation between father and son, a change finally occurred. 

“Davos…” Stannis shifted in an attempt to sit up. 

“Your Grace! Do not move!”

Stannis groaned. “I have been still far too long. And do not give me any blasted milk of the poppy!”

“But you are in pain. You must be.”

“I am. Pain is living, Davos. At least if I am in pain I know I am here.”

Davos inclined his head, although he wasn’t sure if Stannis could see that. His eyes still looked glazed. Their gazes met and Stannis’ frown deepened. 

“But how are you here?”

Davos told him of what had happened: Lord Wyman, Skagos, Rickon and the treatment of Stannis’ wounds. 

“My Onion Knight…” Stannis murmured. “Forever coming to my rescue when I least expect it.”

“Well, Your Grace, I believe Asha Greyjoy has that claim for killing Ramsey.”

“You have given me a Lord of Winterfell, and in turn, the support of the North.” Stannis’ eyes slipped closed. “When hope is all but lost… you come to me.”

“It is my duty, Your Grace.”

“I have never had such a loyal and dedicated man, Lord Davos. I do not forget it.”

“And you have rewarded me handsomely, Your Grace: titles and lands and prospects for my family. I do not forget that either.”

Stannis slipped back into sleep but woke once more when Selyse and Shireen visited him. It was an awkward reunion, as most social interactions were for Stannis. The Queen gloated that of course he was well, for the Lord of Light watched over him but Shireen approached his bedside. 

“I am glad you are awake father.”

“As am I.”

“I am glad Lord Davos is here with us too.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “He was here for you before the Lord of Light.”

“I know.”

Davos pretended not to hear but pride filled his breast. 

\-----

Stannis was better than Davos had expected now that the wound on his back was healed. He still could not use his leg but he was insistent they must head to Castle Black before the Walkers came, but how was he meant to mount a horse in that condition? How would he be able to go into battle?

When Davos entered the King’s temporary chambers, he found Melisandre making preparations. There was an uncomfortable silence, as if Davos was not meant to be there. 

“What is happening?” Dread had already coiled in his gut. 

Melisandre said nothing and continued as if he wasn't there. 

“Close the door,” Stannis growled. 

Davos did as he was bid and approached the bed. “It is your leg?”

“If I cannot use it, there is no point in having it.”

“Your Grace! The bone is strong! It will take some time but it will heal well enough.”

“Time I do not have, Davos. I must be on horseback and I must be able to fight on the battlefield. I cannot do it like this. Melisandre has assured me fire will mend the wound once it is done and I can be on the move once more.”

“Your Grace,” Davos protested weakly, knowing this was not an argument he could win.

“The Bolton bastard has not taken my leg from me. I am choosing this myself.” Stannis regarded him thoughtfully. “You should wield the blade.”

“What?! Your Grace, I could not. I doubt I would be strong enough to cut through the bone!”

“Then you will make as many strikes as you have to.”

Davos remained still but he was unable to turn away from the piercing gaze of the King. 

“You would betray me now, Lord Davos?”

“You know I would not, Your Grace, but know I do this in sorrow.”

Stannis nodded, satisfied. “You are the only person I trust to do this, my Onion Knight.”

Stannis moved to sit on the edge of the bed, and Melisande positioned his mauled leg on a block of wood. Free of its dressings, it was clear it would not be healed for months. 

“You will strike here,” the red witch said, touching just below the knee. 

She passed Davos a large cleaver, freshly sharpened, and passed the King a wooden bit. The blade was heavy and Davos hoped that would get it through the bone. 

“I will bathe this blade in the flames of R’hallor to ease the way and heal the skin as it passes through. Hold it towards me, Lord Davos, blade up.”

Davos did as he was told and Melisandre began her strange magic. He did not even process what she was doing, too focused on the task to come. 

“You must be quick, Lord Davos,” she murmured. “The Lord of Light will help you strike true.”

Davos wasn't sure that was possible with how much his hands were shaking. He sent a prayer to the Seven. 

“Forgive me, my King,” he choked. 

“There is nothing to forgive,” Stannis said before biting down on the wood. 

Davos closed his eyes, breathed deep, held Stannis’ shin to steady himself and raised the cleaver. He recalled vividly the moment when Stannis had shortened his fingers many years ago. He brought the blade down, putting all of his weight behind the blow. 

Stannis jerked, and made a dreadful noise, thankfully muffled by the wood. Unsurprisingly, the blade had not passed all the way through on the first strike. The smell of charred flesh clogged his throat. He tugged the cleaver free of the bone it had wedged itself in and struck again to finish it as quickly as possible. On the third strike, the blade embedded itself in the wood and Davos stumbled back, the tears that blurred his vision nothing to do with the smell. 

Thankfully there was no blood. Davos sank to the floor. A hand touched his shoulder. 

“Well done, Lord Davos,” Melisandre said. Davos looked up at her, a tear escaping his eye. He was not ashamed of it. 

Stannis was white as snow, his face glistening with sweat. His eyes were shut tight and he still had the wood between his teeth. A blackened stump rested on the block, with the same crust that had formed on his back. His leg was on the floor. It did not seem real. 

Melisandre removed the bit from the King’s mouth and gently tipped a vial of milk of the poppy against his lips. Stannis accepted it and lowered himself back onto the bed before he passed out. 

“He will be much better when he wakes,” Melisandre reassured Davos, who was still staring at the leg. 

He had a sudden epiphany. 

“... King’s blood.” He shook his head and stumbled to his feet. “You really believe King’s Blood can wake a dragon? Take what is in this,” Davos gestured to the severed limb.

“It requires lifeblood.”

“All blood is lifeblood. You have not conducted such magic before, you cannot know that it requires all the blood in one’s body. You were willing to sacrifice a child, who has far less blood than a grown man. Drain this leg before it is too late. It is worth a try.”

And so they butchered their King’s leg together, Davos slicing at the ankle and Melisandre catching the blood in a dish. 

“Will you return to Dragonstone to try this magic? We will need everything we can get once the battle begins.”

Melisandre smiled. “You accept the Lord of Light and his power now.”

“I accept that you have magic, and that _you_ have power.”

“It is a long way to sail. The war might be over before I have begun. You can navigate the seas better than anyone.”

“But it must be you that goes to conduct the spell.” For once Davos was not trying to get rid of her. They needed her. “We cannot both leave him in this condition. We cannot trust anyone.”

“I fear you are right.”

“But… There are others who know the sea as well as I. Bring Asha Greyjoy to me. Let's see if we can convince her to aid in our mission.”

The blood was poured into a vial that Melisandre tucked into the pouch on her belt. “Very well, Lord Davos. I must say, you make a fine Hand.”

Davos didn't know how to read that. He did not think the red witch would ever compliment him truly but then again, would he ever have encouraged her magic?

Davos waited in the room adjacent to the King’s and wondered what should be done about the leg. They should keep it to get a replacement made to the correct size. He would speak with Lord Commander Snow later for a recommendation of someone who could fashion a false leg and be discrete about it. No one should know how severely the King was crippled now. If he limped they would think it was the healing bite wounds. 

Melisandre entered with Asha. The pirate princess looked distrustful and the glint in her dark eyes suggested the torture of Ramsey had not sated her bloodlust. 

“What is it, Lord Short-Hand?” She sneered. 

“I require your assistance.”

This clearly had not been what she expected. “Do go on.”

“We need someone to sail Lady Melisandre to Dragonstone, as fast as possible. I imagine you have a way with ships.”

“That I do. What's in it for me?”

“You will be pardoned.”

Asha snorted and then barked a loud laugh. 

“Pardoned? And who says he will still be a king tomorrow, or even alive?”

“If you journey is successful and you get there in time, I have no doubt Stannis will still be a king. A victorious one at that.” He inhaled deeply. Stannis might have his head for this but a Hand should act in the King’s stead in such situations. “Your aid to out cause will be recognised. You will have the Iron Islands and when we capture them, you may do what you will with your uncles.”

“What is it we’re going for? Forgive me if I don't share your confidence. This King of yours is maimed.”

“We are going to wake a dragon,” Melisandre said. “And the traitors will burn at our feet.”

\-----

Melisandre and Asha had departed immediately. Davos knew those in Winterfell were glad to see the red witch go. He had let Asha take her brother with them, he was of no use at Winterfell or at the Wall. 

Jon had sent a man to retrieve the leg and make a replacement. Davos had instructed that it should be functional above all else and that it should not be intricately designed. Davos took the measurements of the King’s thigh and waist himself, for the leather straps that would fasten the new leg to his body. 

Stannis awoke as Davos pressed a damp cloth to his forehead. He tried to move, and then frowned. 

“Yes… That is right. It is gone,” he murmured. 

“Your Grace? How are you feeling?”

Stannis only nodded so Davos filled him in on all he had set in motion. 

“I am assured the leg will be ready by morning and then we can head back to Castle Black if you feel ready to do so.”

Stannis frowned, contemplating all he had been told. “You gave the Greyjoy girl a pardon _and_ lands? If nothing comes of this blasted ritual then I will be seen as a fool.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I could think of nothing else.”

Stannis waved his hand dismissively. “It is a plan worth trying.”

\-----

The leg arrived as promised the next morning, wrapped in a blanket under the Lord Commander’s arm. 

“Your Grace,” Jon inclined his head and offered the bundle. 

Stannis took in from him and dropped the blanket without any extravagance. It seemed to be made of mostly varnished wood, to keep it light. There was no detail to it - the ankle was not jointed, the foot was a simple shape - entirely practical and yet Davos still found it beautiful. The wood was white, so it would not contrast Stannis’ skin too harshly and it wasn't until Davos stepped closer that he realised Stannis’ own bones were inlaid at the front. They were held in with a silver metal that outlined each of them and threaded them through with shining veins. 

“It looks to me as if you had a Wildling make this,” Stannis grimaced.

Jon shrugged. “It is a leg, Your Grace. It will work. It's made from a fallen limb of Weirwood. Treat it well. It is a gift from the North.”

“Thank you, Lord Commander. I am sure it will serve me well, but keep this to yourself.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“We shall ride for Castle Black tomorrow.”

Jon seemed surprised at Stannis’ confidence, without even having worn the leg, but he nodded. 

“I will make preparations.”

As soon as he had gone Stannis shook his head. 

“The Northern Gods are laughing at us Davos. A wooden leg for a king with a fire witch.” Despite this, he smiled. “Leave me, I will dress.”

“Should I send Devan?”

“No. Come back in a few minutes and we shall see if this leg works.”

Davos was not sure how long ‘a few minutes’ meant, but he did a circuit of Winterfell, checking everyone's progress. When he returned to the King’s chambers, Stannis was on his feet. Davos quickly closed the door behind him. 

“How is it?”

Stannis frowned, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I will need some practice but it is not as bad as I had feared.”

“Will you walk across the room for me? Perhaps it will be better with an observer to see how obvious it is.”

Stannis nodded, and did as Davos had suggested. It wasn't particularly obvious, his right leg stiffer than the other but anyone would describe Stannis as stiff. Still having his knee made the movement more natural. He moved with less confidence but these were his first steps, Davos was sure with more practice, and having an audience that he wanted to appear strong to, it would be fine. 

“That's good, Your Grace. Now let's see about you getting on that horse. We should practice before anyone sees you doing it.”

Davos had intended for them to sneak to the stables but they had no such luck. Stannis was immediately greeted as soon as they left the room and word travelled fast that the King was in good health. Davos thought they ought to visit Shireen first, to give Stannis a few more minutes to get accustomed to his leg before he had to deal with the people. Stannis did not protest. 

Shireen was overjoyed at her father’s recovery but the poor girl did not know how to express such a thing to Stannis. Davos invited her to the stables with them and Stannis frowned at him. Davos shrugged and held Shireen’s hand that was hovering uncertainty by his elbow. 

“She is your daughter. It pays to be honest with your children. You have nothing to fear from her. Besides, you should have time with her before the fighting starts again. Time given to spend with your children is always too short…” Davos sighed sadly. 

By the time they reached the stables, they had attracted a small crowd, some of which had been following them like ducklings. 

“What is it you want?” Stannis barked. 

“Thank you, Your Grace!” Someone piped up. “Thank you for your service to the North!”

“You nearly gave your life for us!”

“You answered Jon Snow’s request for aid!”

Stannis looked bewildered as the voices overlapped one another with gratitude and well-wishes. Davos smiled. Southern Kings did not care for the North, but Stannis had come to them. 

_Save the kingdom to win the throne._

\-----

They had set out for Castle Black the next morning, with a crowd to see them off. Stannis had assumed they were there to bid the Lord Commander farewell, he was not used to being loved. 

Shireen and Selyse stayed in the safety of Winterfell. Davos bid Devan to stay as well, much to his son’s disappointment. He did not believe he was remaining to protect the princess. 

_“There is no one else I trust more, my boy. And I cannot lose another son.”_

_“And I cannot lose you too! _Twice_ I have thought you dead! You must come back. We must go home and visit mother and the little ones. Promise me you will.”_

Davos had promised, but had been stuck in a melancholy state on their journey, thinking of what a poor husband he had been to such a beautiful, perfect woman. He rode close to Stannis, to keep a discreet eye on him but he was not much of a rider himself. 

When they arrived, and through the next days, all their time was spent strategizing. Word had got out, somehow, regarding the King’s condition. The Wildlings called him ‘The Cripple King’ but said it in good humour and never to his face. They had a wary respect for him now, especially as there was no further talk of Mance’s children. 

That evening, one of them even presented Stannis with an axe to replace his false leg in battle. 

In his rooms with Davos, he frowned at the weapon on the table. 

“It is not practical. As a leg _or_ a weapon.”

Davos thought on this. “But you are more likely to be unsteady on your feet. If you happened to fall, you might be able to defend yourself from the ground with this.”

Stannis snorted. “It is ridiculous and barbaric, replacing my limbs with weapons.”

The King paced the room, forcing himself to use his leg as much as possible. 

“Can you feel it Davos? The unnatural chill in the air? The battle will be tomorrow, of that I am sure.”

“We are as prepared as we can be, Your Grace.”

There was a beat of silence but Davos had the sense Stannis had something to say. He waited.

“You have been a fine Hand to me, Davos, and a fine man, always.”

“Do not speak as if this is your last night.”

“We must accept it as a possibility.”

Davos knew Stannis might think of himself as a less capable King after his amputation, and that this battle would be his last glory. Davos did not want to believe that. 

“Perhaps you need something to live for,” Davos blurted and immediately held up a hand in apology. “Forgive me Your Grace, I know you have plenty to live for, your duty to the realm, your family, I mean to say… Something personal, something to look forward to.”

Davos had the horrible feeling he was digging a hole for himself. Stannis frowned.

“Speak plainly. You have a suggestion?”

By the Gods, why was he doing this?

“Well, Your Grace, many men might… indulge in their pleasures before they go to war, to remember the sweetness of living.”

Stannis scoffed. “You know I do not indulge in anything, and I am not my brother.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“But you think I should. Your counsel has always been invaluable to me, my Lord Hand, I will deign to listen to your reasoning here. You believe it would be of that greater benefit to me?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“And what do you propose I indulge in?”

Davos swallowed. “Whatever pleases you, Your Grace.”

“But I say I have no pleasures.”

“Then I would find some.” It wasn’t until Stannis raised his eyebrows slightly that Davos realised those words had left his mouth.

“I suggest you start looking. It may be some time before you find something.”

Was that a dismissal or an encouragement? Davos swallowed. He'd got himself this far, and if he died tomorrow he wouldn't have to worry about it. 

He stepped forward, rose on his tiptoes, and pressed his lips to Stannis’ cheek. Davos retreated, focusing on the clasps of the King’s tunic. 

“I am not so bold to suggest that you would… That you might want me. But this sort of thing should be done with someone you trust and you can trust me, Your Grace. If you desired to hold the goodness of life in your heart tomorrow.”

Stannis was silent, so Davos bowed and turned to leave. His King grabbed his arm tightly. 

“You believe it would be of benefit to me tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Very well then. Let us see if you are correct in this.”

Davos turned to look at him in surprise. 

“I accepted that woman's magic in desperation. This is not as bad as that.”

The grimace on Stannis’ face didn't do much to convince Davos. “I should hope not.”

Davos approached again, closing his eyes and pressing his lips to Stannis’. His mouth was a thin, harsh, unyielding line but Davos was not pushed away so he continued attempting to kiss him. 

He had loved his King for years but never thought to imagine something such as this. It seemed crude to think of Stannis in such a way, and it was an impossible scenario. Or, it _had_ been. 

Not having any success in getting Stannis’ mouth to participate, Davos moved down to his jawline, then further to his neck. He put an arm around Stannis’ waist, pushing himself closer, when he felt something unmistakable. 

The King was aroused. 

Davos pulled back. Stannis’ expression was unchanged, although perhaps his jaw was even more tense, and there was a definite flush to his cheeks. 

“If you wish for me to continue, I shall undress,” Davos said, conscious of the heat in his own face. 

Stannis gave a curt nod in response and so Davos began, staring with his gloves. Once his tunic fell to the floor he looked at Stannis again, unsurprised he was still in the same position. Davos rested his hands upon the King’s breast. 

“You as well, if you would permit me.”

Again, the same nod. Davos started unfastening the clasps and once he had exposed Stannis’ chest, he pressed kisses to the skin there. His hands reached Stannis’ waist and he paused, feeling that it was more proper to be completely undressed himself first. 

He stripped quickly, not looking at Stannis and not looking at himself, conscious that his own cock was raised in interest. He stepped forward again but Stannis stepped back, stumbling on his false leg. 

“You are not a whore.”

Davos looked up at him. “I know, Your Grace.”

“I am not treating you as such. I am not Robert.”

“I know, Your Grace.”

Stannis looked down at Davos’ plump cock, then looked away. Davos knew he was not particularly handsome, ordinary in every part of his appearance, from his greying mousy hair and his dull grey eyes, to his stocky stature. 

“You have not seen your wife in many months,” Stannis muttered and Davis understood the implication: that he was only aroused because he had not lain with his wife is so long. 

“That is true, Your Grace, but you value my honesty and I must confess it is my desire to do this for you.” 

“You desire me,” Stannis scoffed. “So much so you would be unfaithful to the wife you speak so highly of.”

“She would not mind it, of that I am certain. She gave me her blessing to seek the comforts of another if I needed to while I was away at sea. I can't say I have often, I am too devoted to her, but I am also devoted to you, Your Grace. She would understand that.”

Stannis looked as if he could not comprehend this, and shook his head. 

“You think me to be like my other brother then.”

It was well known that Renly laid with men and Davos had heard rumours about Stannis in the past - that perhaps he did not love his wife because she didn't have a cock, or why it had been so difficult for them to have a child. These theories had been dismissed by one memorable phrase _'Stannis has that stick of his lodged so far up his arse there's no room for a cock!_ '. Even at the time, all he had thought was that Stannis would not be in the submissive position in that scenario. Davos shook his head. It wasn't about men or women. It was about trust. For Davos, at least.

“I did not think you would agree to it. You are your own man, Your Grace. I would not be doing this if you weren't.”

“Get on with it then,” Stannis snapped. 

Davos’ shortened fingers fumbled with Stannis’ belt and once it was unbuckled, Stannis pushed him back, pulled off his boots and shed his remaining clothes with some difficulty. He stood stiffly, in all senses of the word. His flushed cock was perfectly straight, longer and slimmer than Davos’ own, and somehow entirely Stannis. 

Davos paid the false leg no heed, although this was the first time he had seen it since it was made, and the first time seeing it uncovered, connected to Stannis’ body. 

“Sit back on the bed, Your Grace,” Davos murmured against Stannis’ jaw. “I will join you.”

Stannis maneuvered himself so his back was against the headboard and Davos sat facing him. 

“Should I remove this?” Davos gestured to the leg. “It makes no difference to me but it might be easier - more comfortable - without it.”

“Very well then,” Stannis muttered, looking away. 

Davos carefully unfastened all of the buckles and pulled the leg away, placing it gently on the floor. He dipped his head and kissed at the inside of the thigh of the shortened leg. Stannis’ hands fisted in his hair. 

Davos kissed higher until he reached Stannis’ chest, before straddling his lap. Their cocks brushed against one another and Stannis groaned, his hips twitching upward of their own accord. Davos took advantage of the slight slackening of Stannis’ lips and kissed him properly. 

Stannis grabbed his waist and Davos moved his hips, rocking against him. Davos moved his head away, looking for something he could use. Of course Stannis would not have oil at his bedside for this purpose, but the salve they had been using for the bites to his leg was still there. It would do. 

Davos leaned over to retrieve it, dipping his fingers into the slick paste and spreading it over Stannis’ shaft. Stannis shuddered, his eyes closed, and Davos kissed him again as he wrapped his whole, right hand around his cock. A muffled noise escaped Stannis’ mouth and Davos took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. 

Stannis was just as unresponsive as before but the relaxing of his jaw made kissing him easier and hopefully more pleasurable. Davos continued rocking steadily against him as he stroked, swiping his thumb over the head at the end of the up-stroke. Stannis’ hands had settled, one at the back of Davos’ head, tangled in his hair, the other on his hip. 

The King grunted. “Davos. When- when are we going to fuck?”

“Hmn, ah- St-Your Grace. I had only thought we would do this. I did not want to presume. I fear I will not last but- but if you require greater pleasure then I’ll- then you can fuck me or- or I can suck your cock. Anyth-”

A great shudder passed through Stannis as he spent. Davos slowed his strokes before coming to a stop, pressing soft kisses to Stannis’ mouth. The King came to his senses and pushed Davos back, likely embarrassed that he would spend himself so soon - not only a grown man, but a king. Davos did not mind it, in fact he was quite pleased. 

He did not want to soil the bedsheet so he bent his head and licked the seed from the King’s belly and his own fingers. Stannis looked at him with widened eyes. 

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I will always be a low-born man from Flea Bottom no matter how many titles you bestow on me.” He bowed his head with a smile and went to leave. 

Stannis grabbed him by the arm. “You are not finished.”

Before Davos could respond, Stannis had slammed their mouths together. Davos made a muffled noise of surprise and Stannis pushed him back. A large, firm hand grasped his cock a bit too tight but Davos groaned anyway, holding onto Stannis’ shoulders and kissing him again. 

The pace was relentless and Davos could only imagine Stannis’ paranoia over his inability to provide pleasure, hence his urgency to bring Davos to completion. Davos would never make any demands but he thought a suggestion might be in order before Stannis began to doubt himself. 

“A little looser, Your Grace.”

Stannis’ hand immediately slackened, and Davos held his wrist and set the pace, thrusting up into his hand. It only took a moment for Stannis to regain control, repeating the techniques Davos had used on him. 

Davos held him closer as he reached his climax, pushing his face against his neck as he spilled himself. He heaved a great sigh and relaxed onto the bed. He met Stannis’ gaze as his King considered him. Davos wasn't sure how he should feel, spread out on the King’s bed, naked, with his seed drying on his skin. He felt good but he wasn't certain he ought to. He had risen far above his station this time. 

“You have such a high opinion of your skill in this that you believe someone's desire to experience it again will prevent them from dying?” Stannis’ eyebrow raised very slightly. 

“That is for you to decide, Your Grace, and then perhaps decide for yourself whether my assessment of my abilities is an accurate,” Davos said, propping himself up on his elbows. 

Stannis should know that he was a humble man, who would never gloat of his prowess in anything. Davos would not say he was an exceptional lover but he was thoughtful and tender, and that was likely more than Stannis had ever received in his bed. Besides, it was good to make a jest of it, even if Stannis was not one for jesting he seemed to recognise the warmth in Davos’ tone. 

Davos, wiped himself clean on his underclothes and redressed, conscious of Stannis watching him. Davos did not think he had done wrong with this act now that it was over, but he was uncertain what the next steps where. He bowed. 

“Good evening, Your Grace. Rest well.”

“Fetch me my nightshirt,” Stannis commanded, as blunt as ever but his voice was not as sharp as usual. “You will come to me at first light and we will make preparations for this battle.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Davos departed the King’s chambers, stepping out into the dark and cold. He tried to push the thoughts of the Walkers coming through the snow to the back of his mind. That was for tomorrow. Tonight he hoped to sleep soundly with the memory of Stannis warm against him. 

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: It has been many years since I have read the books and I'm not paying any heed to distances between locations
> 
> I will possibly do a post fight-beyond-the-wall sequel (because Stannis will clearly live to take Davos up on his offer), but again, the ideas I've had for it have strayed into interactions with other characters and 'plot'...


End file.
